


Master of Words

by brilliantdreams



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Erik is a Sweetheart, Established Relationship, Living Together, M/M, Mansion Fic, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/pseuds/brilliantdreams
Summary: The media is always talking about Magneto as a villain; the big bad, the evil cult leader. Charles reflects on whether or not Erik really is all he's made out to be.





	Master of Words

**Author's Note:**

> a.k.a.  
> a long rambly thing bc I love Erik so much that I must write fic about every interpretation of Erik. Socially inept Erik, confident Erik, charismatic Erik, easily flustered Erik. Give me a basket of Eriks to love and care for~

_“…wasn’t only what made Magneto such a threat. He was a mutant of tremendous charisma, gifted with words, and famous for the rallying force of his speeches. The speech Magneto gave, following his terrorist attack at the White House where—”_

The grim voiceover of the documentary choked silent as Charles clicked the TV off and lay back on the bed with a weary sigh.

When were they going to stop making these programmes?

All the adverts for tonight’s broadcast had promised a critical analysis of mutant rights and issues through the last thirty years. But once again, he’d been disappointed with little more than the sensationalism of Xavier versus Magneto. Black and white and easily digestible.

As if mutant issues had ever been so simple.

There had been very little mention of the time he and Erik had spent fighting on the same side; absolutely no footage of the X-Men and Brotherhood joint operations (even though Charles knew there was plenty available), and nowhere near enough attention given to what all these glamourised fights, speeches and press conferences had ever led to. What was the point in dredging up old stories if you never got to the most important part?! What had any of it accomplished? What position were mutants in now? How had things changed?

Not a sniff.

To be fair, Charles hadn’t watched until the end. But he’d had about as much as he could take of seeing himself; so young and bright eyed in the old graduation prints and unearthed CIA photos. So worn and tired later; trying time and time again to assert the complexity of mutant issues onto an unending stream of deaf ears. He’d also had more than he could take of seeing Erik, every photo carefully selected to cast ‘Magneto’ in the most frightening way possible. Even though ‘Magneto’ had been gone for a good while now.

They weren’t the young men they had once been, and they certainly weren’t the flat, over-simplified people the programme had spent such copious time depicting. 

Not even worth watching.

They’d been awfully preoccupied with Erik though. Many of the mutant documentaries were, Charles supposed.

Charismatic, they’d said. Famous rallying speeches…

Charles snorted. Is that what people really saw in Magneto? Of course, not everyone knew Magneto like Charles did, but ‘charismatic master of words’ wouldn’t be one of the first things that came to mind.

Certainly, Erik could be charismatic. He was confident and exceptionally intelligent. The documentary was right in saying that the way Erik had gathered mutants to his cause was a large part of what had made him so dangerous. Some of it though, Charles suspected, had been more to do with the mutants’ desperation than Erik himself. But regardless, it had felt like the documentary was going the way of painting Erik as a cult leader, and such a portrayal both amused and angered Charles.

Erik had rarely used charm to manipulate people, he’d sooner use a threat (Charles wasn’t sure which option he preferred). And Charles didn’t think Erik was even conscious of the confidence and strength of character he exuded when he spoke about mutant rights; much less that he had actually _used_ it. It just came out of him, born from his need of it. A fleeting thing that possessed the man.

Day to day (especially day to day of the last five or so years, in which Erik had left the extremism that was ‘Magneto’ behind) Charles did not often see the Magneto charisma.

As a person, Charles just didn’t think Erik was so-- certainly not primarily as the programme had suggested. Maybe deep down, the ‘Magneto’ persona lurked, but when Charles conjured Erik in his mind, he saw a man peering out at his surroundings with sharp, quiet eyes. A man of considered words and serious demeanour. If he filled the room with people, Erik’s shoulders would curl a little, distrust and caution souring his mouth. His brow would crease, and if Charles cared to colour his telepathy into the picture, he’d feel Erik’s dislike of impending small talk and ‘playing nice’ settle unpleasantly in his belly. He was, almost comically, not a people person.

And even if Charles were to change the throng of strangers out for their students, Erik would still be a man of few words. He would soften some in this situation, of course; gaze less sharp, posture less tense, air warmer and sense of humour making a dark comeback. And at some point, there would be a call for Kurt to stop messing about, or a bark for the students to “stand still, for God’s sake!” (in Charles’ mind, the situation had quickly become the scene of last week’s school photo), but typically, Erik was happy to let Charles do the talking.

Indeed, Erik Lehnsherr was many things, but the likes of charismatic or wordy were not high on Charles’ list.

At that moment, the man in question came walking through the bedroom door.

“The first year boys are doing the dishes. Kitchen should be tidy in half an hour or so,” he announced to Charles as he set the tray of tea he’d brought up on the table next to the bed. Charles drank Erik in for a moment; searching for ‘Magneto’ in the cosy jumper the man was wearing; in the plaid slippers and scruffy weekend jaw line. Erik straightened up and gave the tea a little nod as though confirming a job well done.

“Erik… Do you think you’re charismatic?” Charles asked, aiming for conversational but landing on sudden and contextually irrelevant.

Erik turned to look at Charles, face a question mark. He was quiet for a moment. Trying to figure out what kind of game this was… When he could detect none, he replied slowly.

“I told them you would come down and _make_ them do it if they didn’t… So I think it was that more than anything?”

“Oh.”

“Indeed…”

Charles quickly decided on a different approach, sure that an outright conversation with Erik about whether or not he possessed the qualities of a cult leader was not likely to be well received. Perhaps Charles could draw out some of that situational Magneto magnetism, no pun intended. Create a need for charisma and wordiness.

“Erik, I love you,” he said abruptly, and then watched, as Erik turned a surprised pink; ears and throat first, and then cheeks and nose. His jaw that he had rammed shut to grit his teeth in discomfort creaked open, expression affronted.

“Why are you trying to confuse me?”

“I’m not, I do love you.”

This was true, but poor Erik was still looking very confused. He continued staring at Charles, waiting for more; a hint, a clue to this puzzle. But none came. Instead, the sentiment sunk in around him and he turned, embarrassed, and blinked sternly at the tea set, cheeks very rosy indeed. It really was very easy to ruffle Erik if you knew how. He was awfully sweet this way, and Charles couldn’t help smiling at him.

If only the documentary people could see Erik now. Charles wondered briefly if those who knew that ‘Magneto’ and ‘Professor X’ now lived together, imagined them a very different way, given how the media portrayed them. Erik whizzing round the mansion in his helmet with Charles in his arms, casting inspired confessions of love while Charles swooned like the starry-eyed, lush thing he’d appeared to be in his youth.

Instead:

“I know that…”

Without a hint of charm.

Oh, Erik. Bless you.

Charles indulged the desire to fluster Erik even more. An unconventional ‘fuck you’ to all the documentary makers who had ever thought to single out Erik’s passion for his people and use it to paint him as a one dimensional villain.

“The proper response, unless I’m mistaken, is ‘I love you too’.”

Erik startled in shock like a fawn at gunfire, whirling back to Charles. His foot came out of one slipper.

“ _Mein Gott_ , Charles! I love you too! Happy?”

“Would you like to make a speech about it?”

Erik went bright red.

“No??! Y-You know I do, I don’t---gghh—wh--??!”

Ah, yes. How eloquent.

But in the end, charisma or wordiness hadn’t ever been what had drawn Charles to Erik, even if it had been such a significant factor for many others. Charles decided to conclude the experiment there.

“Well. They’re wrong about you being gifted with the words,” he told Erik, smoothing out his bed covers importantly. “And I think I would know, since I know you best.”

“Who are? Charles—what on Earth are you talking about? Why are you being so odd?”

Erik had his palms open in confusion, forever waiting for Charles to explain himself.

There was no point now though. It had been a silly thing anyway. Magneto and his speeches were in the past now. It didn’t matter if documentaries always seemed to think Erik was an evil cult leader. It was alright because the people who knew and loved Erik now saw him as a complex, real person, and Charles was glad for that.

“Nothing,” said Charles when he was ready. “I’m sorry, darling. Only teasing. Do pour the tea.”

Erik eyed Charles suspiciously, but did as he was told. When he handed Charles his cup and then scooted round the other side of the bed to get in, his stoic calm had returned.

“You’re lucky I _do_ love you,” he grumbled, settling his covers.

Charles tucked himself up to Erik’s side.

“Yes, I know.”


End file.
